


Christmas Traditions

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-16
Updated: 2009-01-16
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Jo sees something she probably shouldn't have.





	

Mom and Bobby have been drinking eggnog for about five hours straight now, and Jo's pretty sure they got into the brandy while they were cooking as well. Their conversation has descended to the level of one of them saying a couple of words which obviously conjure up some twenty-year-old memory, and then them both collapsing into laughter.

Sam and Dean ducked out ages ago, citing some Top Secret Winchester Christmas Tradition, which Jo totally thinks was just a bullshit excuse to get out of having to help lay the table. 

"Remember when Greg had the...the..." splutters her Mom.

"It was the whole carrot!" finishes Bobby, and they both crack up.

Jo grimaces to herself and slips out of the room. Whatever Sam and Dean are up to, they'll just have to let a Harvelle join in this year.

She creeps up the stairs to the room that Bobby always keeps ready for them, trying not to alert her mother to the fact that she's sneaking away when she should be helping. The door's ajar, and her hand hovers for a moment, torn between knocking and just pushing it open. Then there's a loud, unmistakable groan, and she freezes.

"Fuck," bites out Sam, and she knows that tone of voice, even if she's never heard Sam use it before. Her hand presses gently against the door and it quietly slides open.

Sam is lying on his back on one of the beds, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his hands clasped around Dean's head, guiding his cock into Dean's mouth with slow, steady thrusts. They're both still fully clothed - just their pants open and pushed down as far as necessary. Dean's got one hand holding tight to Sam's hip, and one wrapped around his own cock, pumping it fast and hard, almost desperately.

Jo stares for a long few minutes, then Dean does something that makes Sam moan again and open his eyes to look down at his brother. She steps back slowly, careful not to make a noise and alert them to her presence. She moves until the door is between her and Sam's eyes but can't seem to make herself walk away completely. If Dean turns his head slightly and opens his eyes, he'll see her staring, but he looks like he's forgotten there's any world outside of Sam's cock.

When Sam comes, Dean's the one that moans, deep in his throat, while Sam gasps out his brother's name. Dean swallows, almost choking, then pulls off when Sam tugs weakly at his hair. He rests his head against Sam's hip and Jo can see the movement of his hand speed up, get almost violent. He bites down on Sam's hip when he comes, and then lies there for a long moment.

Sam chuckles. "I can't believe we did that with everyone downstairs."

Dean laughs as well and pulls himself up to his knees. Jo takes another careful step backwards, out of his eyeline. "Can't neglect these Christmas traditions, Sammy," he says, mock-reprovingly.

"Does it count as a tradition when it's only happened once before?" asks Sam lazily.

"Course!" says Dean. "You saying you're not gonna want one next year?"

"Are you saying I'm going to have to wait till next year?" answers Sam.

"Maybe till after dinner," says Dean, and Jo can hear the grin in his voice, and maybe that's the worst thing. Not just that they've just had sex, but that they're joking about it, almost flirting, sounding like lovers rather than brothers.

"Come on," says Dean, "Make yourself presentable. We should go down soon, or someone'll come to find us."

Sam makes an unhappy, grumbly noise, but Jo can hear the sound of clothes being rearranged and zippers pulled up. "Think Bobby'll have told the carrot story yet?" asks Sam, and Jo takes that as her cue to sneak away before they find her standing there.

She makes it downstairs before her knees give out, slumping onto the sofa. How the hell is she going to sit through Christmas dinner with them now?


End file.
